


couches and table ornaments

by scottmczall



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmczall/pseuds/scottmczall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: <i>college fic where scott walks in on stiles and lydia and says something like “you two have too much sex, that can’t be healthy”</i></p>
<p>_</p>
<p>"You wanna do it on the couch?" She asks casually when Stiles props a kiss on her clavicle, "That's not really roommate solidary of you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	couches and table ornaments

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy, have a filled prompt, yall.

"We've got about half an hour." Stiles says as Lydia walks in. She knows the place well by now, dropping her purse on the counter absently.

 

She puts her hands on her waist, nodding, "We can absolutely work with that."

 

Stiles smirks, because _hell yes_ , and steps further into her personal space, leaning down for a chaste greeting kiss, "Did Grove give a class worth your time today or is Statistical Mechanics still boring?" He inquires not out of politeness, but simply because Lydia's rants on how, and he quotes, "professor Grove sounds like nothing but a petty, egotistical, self congratulating peasant, talking about his dissertations instead of _teaching_ like he's supposed to", are truly the highlight of his life.

 

Instead of answering, though, Lydia launches forward, pulling him into a kiss, arms noosing around Stiles' neck. He notices her hunger, the eagerness hot on her skin showing through her relentlessness, proceeding to play along promptly and happily.

 

They'd been dating for seven months--after some degree of idiocy and stubbornness on both parts, quite honestly--and things turned out better than Stiles could've ever hoped for, even with their busy schedules, the crushing weight of college itself upon them and some supernatural phenomena on the side every once in a blue moon.

 

"I thought you said we only have half an hour." She bites down on his lip after letting go and Stiles shudders, eyes closing shut, "Let's make it count."

 

Sometimes he thinks he'll combust just from the sound of her voice, husky against his ear as she does something filthy with her hands, but then he opens his eyes and, oh, the _imager_ y--that's really, really hard to beat. "Fuck, _yes_. Yes to all." He mutters after just a second, and bends his knees just enough to catch her by the back of the thighs and take her in his arms.

 

Lydia yelps and giggles when Stiles walks precariously towards the couch, kissing her neck while at it, and again when he drops her--very lovingly and carefully, because he values both this relationship and his own life--on it, climbing on top of her.

 

"You wanna do it on the couch?" She asks casually when Stiles props a kiss on her clavicle, "That's not really roommate solidary of you."

 

Stiles bites just slightly when she mentions, and Lydia squirms, as if in a warning, "When have you known me to be caring and thoughtful towards other people?" He quirks an eyebrow up, throwing her a devious look that surely leaves her smiling. Stiles loves to see her like this, carefree and flushed.

 

"You'd have a point if we weren't talking about Scott." She chuckles and Stiles pulls her shorts down. Lydia helps him, bringing her knees up so he can slide them off, revealing her light blue lace panties.

 

Stiles sighs brokenly to the sight of her, in this tireless routine where no matter how many times he watches her like this, bare skinned and blushed, he finds trouble within himself, be it with something as simple as breathing or more cognitive. "I guess," He mumbles despite himself, eyes darting all over her figure.

 

"Come here." Lydia breathes out muffled words and pulls him by his collar, the shadow of a pout showing on her lips before she captures his.

 

He's made peace with the fact they're both consuming forces, and that the day the thought he was a hungry man was only because he hadn't been kissed by her yet. Lydia swallows him whole, as if taking him up on his word--because Stiles has no trouble declaring his undying love, and drunk Stiles doesn't even know what trouble is. Lucky for them, he's right there with her, just as desperate even if a lot less thorough.

 

Stiles entangles his hand in her hair, pulling her closer by the nape and licks enthusiastically into her mouth, swallowing her attempt of a moan and scraping his teeth on her bottom lip. He pulls away only enough to nuzzle his nose against her cheekbones and trail down to her jaw, peppering kisses right under her ear. Her chest expands under him when she inhales long and slow, and Stiles' lips descend to her neck. She tips her head to the side, eyes closed and mouth agape, and Stiles could feed on this image for days.

 

Lydia half groans when he dials back, "Is this you hurrying?" She bites when he nibbles lightly on her neck, "Because I can think of about fifteen more catalytic things you could be doing with your hands."

 

Stiles inhales slowly for just a moment, lost in her, but surely his head's snapping her way in just a second, and he's frowning, feigning offense, "Are you seriously questioning my methods right now?" He demands, mouth hanging open to back up his act.

 

Lydia giggles silently, one hand trailing down his back, noticeably slowing down as it meets the swell of Stiles' ass, "Well, when else would you like me to do it?" She retorts offhandedly just as her nails scrape through the way back up, and Stiles' skin breaks in light goosebumps under her touch.

 

He's rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, head lowering back to the crook of her neck, redirecting his attention to more urgent matters, "Does brunch work for you?" The remark comes muffled against her skin, just before he sucks on it carefully and thoroughly. Lydia leans into it on cue, and Stiles wants to keep going just to see for how long she'll follow.

 

"No marks," She reminds him in a small voice, almost just a huff of hot breath amidst her melting thoughts. Stiles hums in agreement, even though he'd love to see the dark patch turn from red to purple and smudged with black on pale skin later on, and takes solace on the sweetness of her tone, just the chord it hits when she starts drifting into another--a nearly careless--state of mind.

 

Stiles takes up on her shadow of a suggestion, hand trailing greedily up her ribcage, cupping her breast in a firm grasp, grip loosening and tightening to his command. "Too many clothes." He mutters, restless all of the sudden.

 

"You too." She retorts, batting his hands away when he reaches for the hem of her shirt, "Do yours and I'll do mine. Quicker."

 

"You wanna show me yours, Lyds?" He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his shirt off with ease. Stiles throws it aside, watching as Lydia leans forward and shrugs off of her piece. The curves of her breasts are mostly covered by a matching blue lace bra, and Stiles likes the way they're hugged skintight, the swells of her nipples shaping the thin fabric. He's barely conscious of his hands creeping up and smoothing over her skin, squeezing her tits just enough to feel his cock throbbing inside his pants.  

 

Lydia drops her arms, leaning back on her hands and looks down to where his hands are, "I'll think about it," She smirks and reaches forward, despite his obvious awe, kissing his chest before she licks over his nipple and sucks just for a second, "You first, though." Her hand slides down his stomach, fingers tapping over his happy trail. She hooks a finger on the waistband of his pants and lets go, looking up at him encouragingly.

 

Stiles trembles at her broken promise, "Aye aye, Captain," He mutters under his breath, desperately fighting off his pant's button. "There's a condom inside the bowl behind you." He says in the mean time, nodding to the ornament just on the table.

 

She arches an eyebrow at him, but indulges, moving up so she can search inside the bowl, "Seriously?" She chuckles with the package loose in between her fingers.

 

Stiles springs himself free clumsily, and moves over her, stealing a quick kiss, "First of Scott's in depth class on STD's," He explains. "It fucked him up so much he scattered condoms all around the apartment."

 

Lydia closes her eyes and nods, a smile flourishing on her lips, "That's our Alpha." She cheers and steals a kiss of her own, deepening instead of breaking it, and Stiles melts into it, realizing just as her hands dip into his underwear, tongue working briskly.

 

The friction between them has his muscles contracting in waves of pleasure, the way his hips cant forward dialing down to pure instinct. So he gives into it, gripping Lydia by the waist and investing more thoroughly, sucking on her tongue when she ceases momentarily. He does it once and again, smiling against her lips when her hips twitch as well.

 

She whines and tilts her head to the side, "Stiles, c'mon." Her hand shakes behind him, the condom hitting his back lightly, and he kisses her bare neck. "Stiles!" Lydia hisses, impatient, and scapes the package down Stiles' back.

 

He squirms, trying to get out of her reach, and settles for sitting on his knees. His hand goes for his boxers, but Lydia's faster than him somehow, her hand diving without hesitation, and she pulls him out with a class he absolutely could not pull off in this lifetime. "I don't know why you resist," She comments idly, then licks her palm, never breaking eye contact with him. She's got these steady look from under her eyelashes, her tongue running over her lips, and Stiles will bet it's slowly killing him.

 

"I--I don't!" He huffs out and she frowns, tightening her grip and running a thumb through the head. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering close before he can have a say in it, and he feels his lips pressed together in a thin line, "It's foreplay!" He argues after a moment.

 

"We're on a clock here," She reminds him, letting go of him with a particular twist of her wrist. His eyes shoot open and he blinks repeatedly to the sight of her ripping the condom open with her teeth. She hands it to him, "Hold," Lydia commands absently, and when he does as he's told, she rolls down one side of her panties, stepping out of it with ease, and leaves it hanging to one leg.

 

Stiles chuckles, "Easier to find later?" He asks amusedly, remembering a few of the underwear she's lost over their months there. He rolls the condom down on himself and leans forward again, this time with his hand teasing at her slit, relishing on just how wet she is.

 

"And faster to put on." Lydia agrees, pulling him down by the nape, "How about you get to it?" She whispers against his lips and licks the bottom right before biting down carefully, "Please?" She adds deviously, moving down to his jaw.

 

He obliges, both out of need and devotion, groaning when his cock sinks down her wet heat, welcoming and warm, just ready for him. His head falls to the crook of her neck, one arm creeping under her and pulling her up so he can move faster, "This okay?" His voice is already breaking, and it would be embarrassing if he gave it a thought, but he's too busy, thrusting slowly and deep, feeling Lydia jerk under him every time he goes all the way.

 

"Yes!" She answers sharply, her short nails digging on his shoulders. It burns in the best way possible, just like when she pulls him by the hair, tugging and swearing mindlessly--but that's usually when his tongue is buried down her cunt and they have time to break previous records. Those are his favorite days, when she rides his cock and then his face until he can go again. "Wanna come with you inside," She mumbles when he quickens his pace in the slightest.

 

Stiles swallows, biting down on her neck "Not on my face?" He teases, even though he thrusts erratically there for a second, feeling his blood pump a little faster.

 

"No." Lydia replies simply, the smile evident on her voice, and Stiles' digit is rubbing at her clit in no time, working her up in slow circles. Her jaw tightens, legs going restless, and she crosses one over him, pulling him closer like she wants to merge them both. "Faster." She hisses. Stiles can hear the silent 'we're on a clock' there, and slams into her once, just to hear her surprised gasp and feel the way her still nails scrape down just a little, leaving a burning trail behind them.

 

He continues at a faster pace, enjoying the way her body shakes under him, especially her breasts, he won't lie. "Your bra. Just--" He scrambles through his words, but she gets it, pulling the fabric to the side just enough so her nipple isn't covered anymore. "Fuck--thank you, thanks," Stiles babbles, ducking down to run his tongue through the nub, listening carefully to Lydia's sigh, and latches on to it.

 

Lydia whines and arches into his mouth, lost in her own pleasure, making a point of moving her hips teasingly. His thrusts grow sharper and sloppy as she does it, tongue going slack until Lydia pulls his hair and presses his head against her, “Don't stop,” She moans, and Stiles takes it as a cue to work harder at her clit, rubbing quicker, all of his movements syncing into a sharper and tighter rhythm.

 

"Lydia," He calls, feeling the familiar warmth pooling inside of him, his balls tightening by the second.   
  
She swallows audibly, and nods, "Kiss me." She pulls him up by the jaw, breath coming out in hot puffs, and draws him into a sloppy kiss. Stiles is gone before he knows it, hips stuttering and a groan leaving his mouth, deepening right into hers as he shoots his load.

 

He rubs her with even more intent, feeling his body heavy and sweaty, overly sensitive, urging to drive her over the edge. "C'mon, Lyds, c'mon," He pants against the corner of her mouth, and doesn't have to say another word before she's jerking forward, legs clenching around him, and a pained sound leaving her lips just as the door opens.

 

Stiles' head snaps in the opposite direction, heart hammering inside his chest now for not one, but two reasons, only to see Scott standing still, mouth agape, "Oh! I--I'm--" He swallows, eyes closing, "Are you guys ever _not_ having sex?" Scott whines, turning away and closing the door, "That can't be healthy." He mutters, voice coming out under his breath. "And on the couch, you guys? Really? We--people sit there. I sit there."

 

"You put condoms in here." Lydia argues, slowly coming back from her haze.

 

Stiles can't speak. His mouth is open, but he can't, feeling it suddenly dry and voiceless.

 

"Not as an invitation!" Scott retorts, covering his eyes with his hands. "I'm going to my room. Don't have any more sex, my headphones are broken." He asks and makes his way.

 

"Sorry buddy!" Stiles calls when he's already disappeared into the hallway. "We're never gonna live this down." He sighs, looking up at her.

 

Lydia smirks, though, "I might have something on him and Allison," She says calmly, "And Isaac."

  
Stiles squawks and flails, almost falling off the couch, " _What?!_ " And he's pretty sure Scott yelled just as he did. 

**Author's Note:**

> i keep talking about feedback cause i need it, i swear. comment, comment, comment.


End file.
